


Let Me Get the D(ishes)

by Sandrene09



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrene09/pseuds/Sandrene09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> The thing is, the dishwasher broke down. That’s nothing new—Anthony has honestly wanted to buy a new one for a long time since this one constantly breaks down on him at the worst of times—but this, this is new. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Get the D(ishes)

**Author's Note:**

> For anon, who wanted sexy times after the dishwasher breaks down. Thank you anon for both the prompt and the reminder that I suck at writing smut.

Here’s the thing.

Anthony blinks, his hand reaching behind his neck to scratch at the area.

Okay. So.

The thing is, the dishwasher broke down. That’s nothing new—Anthony has honestly wanted to buy a new one for a long time since this one constantly breaks down on him at the worst of times—but _this_ , this is new.

Anthony watches Ian hum under his breath as he turns the faucet on, water splashing on the pile of plates. He looks his fill, from the small smile on Ian’s lips courtesy of the romantic dinner they had just managed to have, to the way Ian’s long sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows, his forearms on display, and he slams into a wall of pure _want_.

This—the way his mouth is dry as he watches the muscles in Ian’s forearm subtly move as he grabs another plate and scrubs the surface of it, the way his eyes can’t seem to move away from Ian’s form as he leans against the sink, the way his dick is suddenly hard in his pants as he imagines just taking Ian over there, bent and willing—this is new. Dishwashing should never be erotic, and yet somehow, it _is_.

Anthony should probably be ashamed.

He shakes his head in an effort to tear his gaze away from Ian. In his defense, it’s not like he’s getting turned on by the soap and the dishes. It’s just— _Ian_. It’s Ian and his forearms that’s doing this to him, not the sink.

To be perfectly honest, Anthony thinks Ian can make anything seem sexy. Hell, Ian can be cleaning over Daisy’s mess on the floor and Anthony would still be hard in his pants, looking at his ass as he bends over.

Groaning, Anthony shakes his head at the idea. He’s been doing a lot of the shaking the head thing, yes, but it seems like he needs it, like he wouldn’t be able to get the idea out of his mind unless he physically moves his head to try and clear it of these thoughts.

Ian’s hands are quick but careful, not wanting to break any of the white plates. Anthony watches as Ian grabs a spoon and wraps his hand around it, cleaning the handle with the small foam, and he has to subtly arrange his dick in his pants.

What the actual fuck is wrong with him?

Anthony clears his throat and makes his way over to Ian, his arms making their way around Ian’s waist, his head immediately making a home on Ian’s right shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly into Ian’s ear.

Anthony can’t see it, but he knows that there’s a smile on Ian’s face. “Hey,” Ian says, his hands turning the small bowl over.

Letting his hands caress Ian’s skin through his blue shirt, Anthony presses a kiss to Ian’s cheek. He still can’t believe they’re actually _here_ , something more than what they thought they would be. Sometimes, he would wake in the middle of the night, wanting a glass of water, and he would just be struck dumb by the sight of Ian in his bed, lying on his front and his arms tight around a soft pillow. He would forget about his thirst, his body choosing to remain beside Ian, his eyes taking their fill until they would close once more.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony says softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness that has settled over them.

Ian hums under his breath, distracted. “Why?”

“Well,” Anthony begins, pausing for a little bit to just watch Ian’s hands deftly, “this was supposed to be a romantic dinner, you know, and I don’t think romantic dinners involve washing the plates by hand.”

Ian chuckles. “You never know. In some places, washing the dishes might be part of the romance.” His voice lowers, and he turns a bit in place, making sure his eyes are looking straight at Anthony’s dilated ones. His eyebrow is raised, and his smile looks a bit smug and—Anthony raises an eyebrow at this—naughty. “In this place, I think it _is_ part of the romance.”

Anthony grins. “What makes you say that?”

Ian shrugs. “Nothing much,” he says, bringing his gaze back to the sink. “Except, well—”

Anthony groans as Ian suddenly pushes his ass back, pressing tight against the hardness in his pants. “Ian,” Anthony chokes, his arms tight around Ian’s waist.

Anthony can practically hear the smug grin as Ian says, “hmm? What is it?”

Ian _grinds_ his ass against Anthony’s erection, and a low sound is ripped from the depths of Anthony’s throat. Anthony feels heat engulf him, like liquid fire is running through his veins instead of blood. He lets one hand make its way downward, dragging itself to let its warmth be felt through the thin fabric of Ian’s shirt, until it arrives at Ian’s hardness. Anthony grins as he hears Ian’s low moan. “You know what I’m talking about,” he says, his voice rough. As Anthony rubs Ian’s erection with one hand, he leans in and bites the top of Ian’s ear lightly. “You know,” he breathes.

Ian’s arm muscles look tense as they support his upper body, his knuckles white as they clutch at the edges of the marble countertop. Anthony continues rubbing Ian through his pants, smiling when he feels Ian’s jeans start to get soaked.

“I— _oh_ —have to do the dishes,” Ian says in a voice like broken glass, sharp and jagged at the edges. Anthony merely smiles and leans in, breathing over the side of Ian’s neck before licking, tasting the saltiness of Ian’s skin. He blows warm air over it and watches as tiny goose bumps appear, a sense of satisfaction coursing through him when he feels Ian shiver in his arms.

“You can do them later,” Anthony says, his voice low. He brings his other hand on top of Ian’s left hand, his fingers making a home between Ian’s. “Trust me.”

The air around them is suddenly so much hotter. Anthony feels sweat make its way down his neck, feels his skin thrum with anticipation.

“Really?” Ian asks, before quickly pressing back against Anthony. He grins when he hears Anthony’s choked off moan, and he reaches back with one hand, pressing Anthony harder against him, his ass continuing its motion.

Anthony closes his eyes and moans, letting himself ride the wave of sensation as Ian continues to grind against his dick. “Fuck,” he says, opening his eyes. He removes his hands from their previous positions, quickly dragging them upwards to open the top buttons on Ian’s shirt. His fingers are quick as they remove the first, then the second button, until Anthony can slip the shirt past Ian’s right shoulder. He lets his mouth drag against Ian’s bare shoulder, pressing tiny open-mouthed kisses against warm skin.

Ian’s eyes are closed. He feels heady under the barrage of sensation, feels drunk in the warmth in his pants, in the warm wetness on his shoulder. His hand crumples the fabric of Anthony’s shirt as he balls it into a fist, and he moves slowly downward, letting Anthony’s erection drag upward.

Anthony bites on Ian’s shoulder as Ian slowly stands up straight once more, groaning through his teeth as he feels the sweet torture on his dick. After a few seconds, his lips make their way across Ian’s shoulder, towards the side of his neck. Anthony presses a kiss, two kisses, three kisses, until he just goes in and sucks the skin into his mouth.

“Ah!” Ian shouts, his voice hoarse. He bucks against the counter as he feels Anthony work on the side of his neck, his mouth warm.

Anthony lets go of Ian’s neck, watching with a sense of satisfaction as red blooms on the patch of skin. With his hands on Ian’s waist, he turns Ian around, smiling as he sees the way Ian’s eyes are dilated, the dark blue of his eyes almost impossible to distinguish from the black of his pupils. One hand reaching for the back of Ian’s head, Anthony leans in and kisses him deep, plundering the depths of his mouth with his tongue. His hand curls into Ian’s waist even more, consumed as he is by desire. Ian’s hand is back on the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he hangs on for dear life. Anthony can feel Ian’s other hand on his lower back, curling and uncurling with every twist of the tongue, with every heady kiss.

Ian pulls back, breathing heavily. Anthony chases his lips, pressing chaste kisses against ruby red lips before pulling back as well, their panting sounding too loud in the silence of Anthony’s apartment.

“We should head to bed,” Anthony whispers, his hands falling away from the back of Ian’s head and making their way towards Ian’s belt, fingers eagerly making work of the leather.

Ian blinks, a small smile appearing on his face. “I have to do the dishes.”

Anthony groans. “You can do the dishes later. For now,” he says, bringing one hand downward to cup the hardness in Ian’s pants, smiling when he hears Ian’s broken moan, “you can do me.”

Ian chuckles softly. “Smooth,” he says, his eyes opening to reveal dilated pupils. “Lead the way, then.”

Anthony has never been happier that his bed is only a few steps away.

His hand holding Ian’s tight, Anthony all but drags Ian to the bed, turning at the last second to let Ian fall onto the soft sheets. Ian grins up at him, defiant and challenging, and Anthony removes his shoes, eager to fall into bed. One knee finds its place beside Ian’s legs before the other, and Anthony grins at Ian, before sinking down and letting his dick rub against Ian’s through their underwear and pants.

Breathing heavily, Ian reaches towards Anthony’s belt with both hands, his fingers making quick work of the belt and the button on Anthony’s jeans. Before unzipping the zipper, Ian allows his hands to caress Anthony’s dick through the fabric, a small smile appearing on his face when he hears Anthony groan, his voice low and sensual like dark chocolate.

Anthony’s hands find their way to Ian’s nipples, and Ian inhales sharply, biting his lip quickly as Anthony’s fingers ruthlessly play with them, coaxing them into peaks, rubbing against the sensitive areas.

“Oh come on,” Anthony says after a while, a bit breathless from the way Ian looks against his crisp white sheets, “you know I hate it when you stop yourself from making noises.”

Without warning, Anthony engulfs one nipple in his mouth, and Ian _screams_ , his eyes falling closed and his hands weaving through Anthony’s hair and holding tightly for dear life. Anthony laves over the nub with his tongue, enjoying the way Ian sounds, his voice shot through with pleasure. He backs away after a few more seconds, blowing on Ian’s nipple before saying in a soft voice, “see? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Oka— _ah!_ ” Ian moans as Anthony’s mouth finds his other nipple, relentless in giving him the sweetest torture. Remembering where his hands are, Ian unzips Anthony’s jeans before reaching inside and letting his dick jut out from the confines of his gray boxer-briefs, red and hot and leaking. Anthony lets out a low hiss as Ian’s hand encircles his dick, Ian’s thumb rubbing against the head, spreading the wetness.

Taking a break from touching Ian all over, Anthony undoes the buttons on his shirt with eager fingers, barely managing to rip the shirt in his impatience. He watches as Ian undoes the button on his jeans before lowering the zip, and he rises, kneeling on top of Ian to allow him the space to kick off his jeans.

Ian watches the subtle play of Anthony’s muscles as Anthony removes his plaid shirt, his shoulders broad and beautiful under the soft lighting. He kicks off his pants and boxers before letting his hands touch the dips and curves of Anthony’s abs, the crests and valleys of Anthony’s chest.

A low guttural sound is ripped from Anthony’s throat as one of Ian’s hands make their way downward again, rubbing against the head of his dick before dragging itself downward, reminding Anthony that he still hasn’t removed his underwear.

Uncaring, Anthony removes his underwear and throws it behind him, quickly falling on top of Ian right after, the points of contact between their bodies humming with electricity. Ian feels heat pool at the bottom of his spine, and he arches when Anthony’s palm encircles his dick, sweet, _sweet_ pleasure making itself known on his face. Ian leans forward and licks the sweat from the side of Anthony’s skin, biting gently at the juncture of Anthony’s neck and shoulder. He relishes at the sound of Anthony’s groan, at the feel of Anthony’s skin against him as they start to move against each other.

Ian breathes hard against the side of Anthony’s neck as Anthony starts jacking him off with sure steady pulls, twisting just at the end, his thumb rubbing against the head. “Fuck,” Ian chokes, one hand shakily reaching for Anthony’s dick. He thumbs the veins on Anthony’s shaft, enjoying the way Anthony is groaning, his voice low and rough, his eyes closed. There are fireworks waiting to erupt under his skin, the simmering heat quickly becoming something more than just fire.

Anthony can feel every filthy pull of Ian’s hand, and he chokes at the sensation. He opens his eyes and looks at Ian, looks at the hickeys he has placed on Ian’s shoulders and his neck, looks at his dark, dark eyes, looks at his lips bruised from Anthony’s hot kisses, and he marvels at just how lucky he is to have Ian like this, wanton and loving and beautiful under his arms.

Ian licks his lips before gripping Anthony tighter, and Anthony pants, bowing his head, breathing heavily through his mouth as he tries to continue bringing Ian off. His concentration is shot to pieces, mindless as he is with pleasure. Desire runs through his veins like racecars on an infinite track, faster and faster until everything is a white blur, until everything is running with the speed of light.

The groans stack themselves up in his throat until Anthony feels the need to say nonsensical things, his eyes shut tight as he allows himself to be swallowed by the sea of pleasure. He feels Ian’s tongue lick against his neck before nipping lightly just below his Adam’s apple, feels Ian’s breaths quicken as Anthony rubs the area just beneath the head.

Anthony opens his eyes once more, his gaze finding its way towards Ian’s lips, bitten red and sinful. Ian looks like the sweetest of sins, decadent and filthy and blazing heat incarnate. Anthony brings one hand forward and rubs Ian’s nipple once more as he grips Ian tighter. Ian’s hips snap up, and he moans, his breathing ragged.

“Ah,” Ian says as Anthony’s hands continue their sweet assault on his body. “Oh, _oh_! Fu—ah, more, please.”

Anthony mouths at the side of Ian’s neck and breathes in his scent. “Yes, yes,” he says as Ian’s hand make their way downward, playing with his balls.

Ian feels the pleasure ricochet up his spine as Anthony’s mouth once again finds its way towards Ian’s nipples, and he finally lets go, letting the fireworks burst beneath his skin. His mouth falls lax and he is silent as the waves of pleasure finally wash over him. Anthony continues his slow pulls until Ian’s dick softens, spent.

“Oh,” Ian groans out, opening his eyes. A small hazy look settles over him, and he breathes in deep before continuing jacking Anthony off.

It’s not long before Anthony moans out his release, a low sound being ripped through his throat slowly. Ian kisses his closed eyelids, and Anthony smiles softly as he feels Ian’s hands fall away from his dick.

After a few seconds, Anthony opens his eyes. Ian isn’t the romantic type, yes, but looking at him now, Anthony can see something indescribably fond in his eyes.

“Love you,” Anthony says, letting himself just relax in Ian’s arms. He should probably move away, should probably get a wet washcloth and clean them both up, but right now his limbs feel relaxed and unwilling to separate themselves from Ian anytime soon.

“Love you too,” Ian says softly, and Anthony feels Ian press a chaste kiss to the side of his forehead.

Before getting pulled down under by sleep, Anthony says, “see, aren’t you glad you did me instead?”

Ian just chuckles.

Anthony finally sleeps, safe in Ian’s arms.

Thank God for that dishwasher.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Smosh. I do not make money from this.


End file.
